


Rosebud Boys

by watfordslarry



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Arguing, Baz Pitch - Freeform, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Chosen One, Hate to Love, Love, Lucy Salisbury - Freeform, M/M, Magick Forest, Shapeshifter, Simon Snow - Freeform, Watford (Simon Snow), creatures in the Magick world, magick, penelope bunce - Freeform, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watfordslarry/pseuds/watfordslarry
Summary: Baz storms to me, gripping me by the collar of my shirt, “What the fuck are you doing?!” he half shouts, half growls, but there's something in his eyes, and I can't pin it down.-or where Baz unwillingly gets joined by Simon on a trip to find someone he has no business in.





	1. Chapter 1

##  **SIMON**

Penny’s trying to get me to come back home with her for break, or with Agatha, even though we’re still off an on. More off it seems. I’ve kept giving Penny plenty of invalid reasons on why I’d rather stay, each one making it seem more obvious and obvious that I’m just not telling her something. She knows better than to push her way into something I’m purposefully not telling her about, though. I’ve only ever told her everything. If there’s something I need to hide, she knows I really can’t tell. (I may have lied a bit and told her it’s something for The Mage to get her to understand that I can’t tell her, but I’m not even sure The Mage is aware I’m staying at Watford for Christmas).

Baz is staying too, and is mostly my reason for staying. He’s not phased in any light about the fact that I’m not going somewhere for break, but it would be an understatement to say the same for me. All my years at Watford, even before I started going home with Agatha, Baz has always just about been the first one to leave. For him to not even be leaving at all had raised some questions in my head. (But when does he _not_ give me reasons to question him. He’s practically plotting my demise every hour).

“Fine. Stay safe, down burn the school down,” she waves her hand while she stands from Baz’s bed (he’s going to have a downright fit) and hugs me, then leaves. She always just leaves. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her say goodbye to anyone. Thinks it makes it seem like she’s never going to see them again. If I never see Penny again I’m just about doomed.

The wait from when she leaves and Baz comes back is torturous. I don’t remember the holiday ever being like this, but that could just be because by now I’m usually giddy about having specially cooked meals, spending Christmas with a welcoming family. People that _may_ judge me, but show nothing of it, unlike how Penny’s mum can be sometimes.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Snow. Finally broke up with you?” Baz strolls to his bedside, gathering a few things from his dresser.

“No,” I snarl, “I just wanted some peace and quiet for once. The Wellbelove’s don’t ever stop asking me questions,” I lie. The family is lovely, or at least as lovely as I’ve known, being stuck in homes all summer with nothing much but myself.

“So you’re breaking up with _her_ ,” he says. He’s obviously not interested, sitting with his back towards me while he fiddles and plays with something in his lap. I try subtly lifting myself upright on my bed to see what it is, but to no avail.

He mutters something under his breath, and I remember his previous remark, “No, I’m not. I wanted to stay at Watford. The Mage needed me for something,” I tell him. I can see him scowl, his face turned sideways. Then he turns his body a bit to look at me.

“You’re lying. Mage isn’t even here.”

I didn’t know that, “Oh,” is all I get out. He continues to look, stare, at me, and does nothing but raise his eyebrows.

“Well?”

“What.”

“What are you _doing_ here, Snow.”

“Nothing, just mind your own business,” I lay back, then onto my side, and pull the duvet up to my chin.

 

##  **BAZ**

Snow is fast asleep when I stick a note on the door and leave. A quick note, “Went home”. The only problem with it is that I don’t usually leave notes for Snow. Or leave anything in general for him. So it will either fill him in on why I didn’t leave as soon as I possibly could, or make him even more suspicious of me than he normally is. (it’s easy to tell when Snow is worrying. Or thinking. And what else is he thinking about other than me? Well, me _plotting_ , that is).

I get past the drawbridge, before it goes up for the night (Snow went to sleep early tonight. Thank god), and when reaching the entrance to the forest I open up my partially crumpled paper.

“ **Suus ostende tempore** ,” I’m sure I pronounce at least one thing wrong, I didn’t take Latin, after all. Google translate told me how to say it. It's Show Time, in Latin. I wait a moment, a few good moments, actually, until I can start seeing a yellow almost transparent door. Though upon looking at it it’s more like a large box.

I stick my hand out, pulling it back when my fingers go through and get wet. Only for them to go dry right as I remove them. “Fuck,” I sigh. I can’t hold my breath very long, so for this to be what I think it is kind of fucks up my situation.

I take a deep breath, and jump through.

 

##  **SIMON**

As soon as he goes off into the other side I run across to the entrance of the forest, running through before it closes.

I’m submerged in water, and start panicking, and as much as I try swimming out, or just away, I don’t go through any faster.

This is how it ends, isn’t it? Drowning in some fucking water portal.

I hold my breath as long as I can, but eventually I can’t do it anymore, and let go, bubbles coming from my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut. They burn. My head starts to hurt, but then it all stops, and I come tumbling out. My chest slams into the dirt, followed by my head. “Ah, Crowley,” I lay there with my head in my hands, then turn over and hug my arms around my chest.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I almost have a heart attack, and get up as quick as I can. I forgot what I even came through that thing for.

Baz storms to me, gripping me by the collar of my shirt, “What the _fuck_ are you doing?!” he half shouts, half growls, but there's something in his eyes, and I can't pin it down.

“Came to see what _you_ were doing!” I try prying his hands off, but I can’t even budge them, “why didn’t you go home!”

“Why didn’t _you!_ Off with your girlfriend or your trusty sidekick?” he scowls, then lets me go, “you realize you can’t leave until daylight, right? Which is in another nine or ten hours?”

I frown. Obviously I don’t know that. Why would I know rules about an obvious magickal forest that I didn’t even know _was_ a magickal forest until now? Baz seems to overestimate the level I’m on for “common magickal sense”. (If it were a book I’d be on chapter ten of fifty).

“Obviously _not_ , you twat,” I pull on my collar. Baz balls his fists, just about coming at me but refraining.

“You stay with me. If you wander off or get lost I am _not_ coming to find you,” he points his finger at my chest, seemingly taller than he normally comes off as.

“Whatever,” I play cool. In all honesty if there’s one person I’d be glad to be stuck in a magickal forest with it would be Penny, but Baz makes a close second. Years together have allowed me to take notice in the fact that he actually knows quite a lot about magickal creatures. He used to read books on them from the library, with his legs tucked up and his duvet pulled over as much of him as possible. Either that, or he’d turn on his side so that I couldn’t see what he was reading from my own bed.

He walks off, sticking his wand in his back pocket and running his fingers (quite frustratedly) through his hair. He walks far enough, his long legs making it effortless to take such large strides, before turning his head just a bit. “If you annoy me I’m leaving you off to yourself!” I run to catch up with him, keeping a distance and desperately containing my millions of questions. They’re no doubt going to spill eventually. I _need_ answers, not rhetorical responses that make no sense. He’s good at avoiding a question to get out of it. I’ve _still_ never mastered it. I can barely get any words out half the time as it is.


	2. Chapter 2

##  **BAZ**

"Stop!" I shout. He's too far away, and I know my voice goes right out of his ears. Snow flourishes his sword. I can tell that the thought of getting killed by the rampant creature scares him, but the only reason it's defending itself is because he whipped out the goddamn sword in the first place. (If it hadn't felt threatened, it would've just continued eating the shrubs).

" **Stand your ground!** ” I shoot the spell at Snow, watching mud swallow his feet. He stumbles and falls to the ground, his sword tumbling out of his hands. " **Back off!** " I point my wand at the creature, and repeat the spell two more times before it slowly turns and saunters back into the woods where it came from.

I turn to Snow, "Are you _stupid_?!" I exclaim, "it wasn't going to _hurt_ you until you started slashing at it! Just because we're in a rush and you think any animal is a threat doesn't mean they are! It wouldn't of even noticed your presence, Snow," if it could, my neck would be flushed with frustration (I didn't drink last night). It makes it hard for him to make eye contact with me.

"They can breathe fire, it didn't quite give me solace by being around it," he mumbles, trying to free his feet from the glue like mud.

I mutter a spell under my breath to undo it, "Even so, I made it clear to you that I'd handle any creatures. Or anyone else, for that matter," I shake my head as Snow stands and shakes the mud off of his shoes. I turn and start walking in the direction which we had originally been going. "Next time I'll think out a more precise plan," I roll my eyes, "thought you'd be able to contain yourself."

He grabs his sword. I can hear the metal of it as he picks it up, "I made a mistake, I get it. Can we just move on?" he asks as he runs to catch up with me, "and it's Simon."

I stop short, and suppress another eye roll, "If your parents made your first name Snow, then wouldn't you think I would've already tortured you about that by now? After five painful years of being roommates? I fucking know it's Simon," I continue walking again, "and it's not just about this one thing. You constantly ignore anything that anyone's told you, no matter if you mean to or not. I tell you not to get involved with anything I do, but look where we are now thanks to your need to be nosy and annoying," I run my hands down my face at the end of the rant. I really don't think he knows half the shit he gets into.

"Not my fault you’re devious and… and _shady!_ ” he laughs, but it’s more of distress than humor, “Crowley _knows_ what you’re up to! Not only was it suspicious of you coming out into a magick forest at night, but you’re _alone!_ You do almost everything on your own even when you'd get killed! You'd _die_ alone in these woods!" he shouts, "and you can't die, Baz, because then there's no one else that'll willingly kill me when I eventually become too much for the magick world! I'm a ticking fucking time bomb waiting to explode, you've said it your-"

"Shut up! No one is _killing_ you" I exclaim, interrupting him. I can smell him, smoke and thick burning magic.

He balls his fists, "Don't tell me to shut up!" he continues going on about god knows what, but I don't hear any of it. He's going to go off. He's getting worked up and frustrated over nothing and I'm going to pay for it if I don't do something. Yet the only thing I can think of doing is kissing the fuck out of him. Even though it's me he's mad at. (And even if I can't help but think it's hot).

"Are you even listening to me?! You-" I pull him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles, but catches himself on me.

He pulls away, his face drenched in uncertainty, "What did you..." he doesn't even finish his sentence. (And normally I'd tell him to spit it out, but I just fucking kissed him).

Fuck. I just _fucking_ kissed him. Simon Snow, who literally hates me more than anyone he knows. Than I know. I'm going to die. I'm going to kill myself. Stab myself and set my body on fire.

I don't break away from looking at his face. If I do, then the moment is over (whether it's a good or bad one) and then we both have to live with the awkwardness, because neither of us would actually bring it up to "talk about what happened".

Lines on Snow's forehead appear and disappear, then appear again. He always looks like he's thinking something up, or worrying. Which I don't think I've ever seen him _not_ worrying about something.

His hands are still gripped onto my forearms, feet unbalanced. Then he reaches up and kisses me.

He kisses me. ( _He_ kisses _me_ ).

I almost don't respond to it, then I almost get embarrassingly giddy, and then I sigh into it and kiss him back. If he didn't kiss me or respond positively to my first kiss then I'd probably end up moving out of the continent. Or setting myself on fire.

I let my free hand grab at his waist to pull him closer. I feel like he's more experienced than me with kissing, which although I don't like, I don't object when he tilts his head and pushes his tongue into my mouth. I let go of his collar and slide my hand to the back of his neck. And god, he's so good at this. I don't know if he realizes who he's even kissing, and the fact that he's kind of still off and on with Agatha isn't a good thing, but he's kissing me right now. And he's not dying. And I don't feel any filthy want or need to drink from him.

Snow pulls away, breathing hard. I can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. I expect him to turn and run, or yell at me, or be so frightened by what just happened that he wants to kill me, but instead he attaches our lips again. _Again_ again.

##  **SIMON**

Baz's hands keep squeezing my sides, and he keeps dipping his head and forcing his lips harder to mine. I've only kissed one person before, and it wasn't anything like kissing Baz. With Agatha I'm (or was?) always the one in charge. But now it's different. Baz is bigger, taller, and stronger than me. He seems to overpower me when it comes to... this, instead of it being the other way around. Agatha was small and soft. Not that Baz's lips aren't soft. (I'd probably let him kiss me all day. Not that I'd ever admit that). And Agatha was graceful and easy, compared to Baz's movements. He kisses roughly, and pulls me to him when I venture away a bit. But I like it. It eliminates the prophecy and all that it stands for. That I'm the most powerful magician, when there's Baz, who has more control than anyone with magic, and who clearly can overpower me just by fucking kissing me.

I pull away and instantly hate it. Do I say something? Anything? Is it going to be awkward if I don't? I don't even know if I like kissing guys, or if it was only good because it was Baz, which is a whole different thing.

"Never knew you felt that way, Snow," he says. I'm about to shoot something back until I see that he's smiling.

"I didn't," I bite the inside of my cheek.

Baz raises his eyebrows. His hand on my neck slides down so that both hands are on my waist. My hands are balled and pressed against his chest. I can imagine myself spreading them across his bare chest, and pushing my fingers into his hair, and sucking on his lips until they're swollen and red. But then I bring myself back to the real world where not one part of me knows where that vision even came from. "Then why'd you kiss me?"

I huff, "You kissed me first."

He smirks, and God, whenever he smirks his whole fucking face goes into the expression, "Yeah, but then you pulled away and kissed me a second time," my face drops. (He's right).

"Oh," I mumble. My arms fall to my sides, knocking his hands off of my hips. "I don't know. It felt good," I bite my lip out of nervousness.

"Good like a one time thing or good as in you'd do it again tomorrow?" he shifts his weight onto one side. His gaze is intense, and I force myself not to look in his eyes. I look behind him instead.

"I..." I furrow my eyebrows, "Baz," I mutter.

"What," he leans a little closer.

"No- stop. Behind you," I whisper. He turns around, blocking my view. I step out beside him, watching nervously as a woman continues walking close and closer until her face is visible. I don't know who she is, but when seeing the look in her eyes I'm not too sure if I want to know her.

"I don't care what she wants, just stay calm and under control. Don't go off. If you go off we're dead, they fucking live off of your magic, Snow," he says quietly to me.

"Who is she?"

"No one. It's a shapeshifter. You can tell by the eyes. They're not dangerous unless they shift into someone very powerful or skilled. Or someone better than whoever they're against. They don't usually cause any harm either," he narrows his eyes, "unless someone's paying them," he purses his lips. I can practically feel the anger coming off of him. "What do you want?!" he shouts. The woman stops.

"You know who you're standing with, right Tyrannus?" she cocks her head. Baz's jaw clenches. "He'll end up wiping out magic for good! The only logical thing to do is either share the power or get rid of it!"

"Good luck with that."

The woman must not like that, since then she draws her wand and charges for us. Baz does the same, but meets her in the middle and grabs her by the neck. "Stop!" I gasp. He doesn't let go, but doesn't strangle her either.

"Who are you?" I ask as I jog over.

"Don't-"

"Lucy Salisbury," she grips Baz's hands on her neck, "I'm your mother."

##  **BAZ**

Snow's face goes pale. I break the shapeshifters neck, and watch it turn back into its original form. "What did you _do_?!" he screams. His sword drops to the ground.

"I killed that thing before it killed us," I tell him.

"That thing was my _mother_!" his voice cracks. I can see the tears he's forcing back.

"It was only in the shape of her, Snow. It wasn't her," I try telling him, but he interrupts me again.

"I-I don't care! What if it knew something _about_ her?!" he takes a few steps back, and after a moment looks up and lunges for me. I grab him by the arms, and although I'm stronger than him he still puts up a fight. "You _knew_ it was her!" he hits me helplessly.

"Snow- _Simon_!" I scream at him. He goes still, trembling with tears running down his cheeks. "Yes I knew it was her-" he pushes away from me, tripping and falling on his rear end, " _hey_! The only reason I know it was her was because it said so,” I lie. He still looks betrayed, and in a way he kind of is. By me, and I can’t help but feel immensely terrible for it. “Plus, Shapeshifters don't _lie_ about who they’re in form of. And they never know anything about the person they take shape of except for their name and immediate family. Unless whoever pays them _tells_ them information. They did the same thing to my mother to try to get to my aunt," I reach a hand out to help him up, "I'm sorry."

He takes my hand and stands. He still doesn't look happy with me, and unfortunately I'm not sure if I'll be able to get his trust back after this. Not right away, at least.

"Why was it her," he mumbles, "of all people. It could've been The Mage... or whoever my father was, or some powerful magician. Why her? People say that my parents were Normals anyway, so if it's true then how would she be the one that could ‘beat’ me or whatever?"

I purse my lips, "Because your real parents aren't Normals. They can't be. Shapeshifters can only turn into people or things from the Magick world, plus a magician can only be born from other magicians. People are dumb as fuck for believing that you had Normal parents," I go to start walking, but Snow stays put, "you coming?"

He fidgets in his spot, but then follows. He keeps his head down while we walk, and constantly bites on his lips. You would be dumb to not know what he was thinking of. (And it's not the kiss).

Later that evening, when it eventually gets too dark to keep walking, we make camp in between a huddle of tree's. I put up a barrier spell around us and pull my hood up. Dirt and bugs aren't things I want to get in my hair.

Snow sits across from me, and I stare at him for a moment before nodding at him, "Come over here," I murmur.

He opens his mouth, but then closes it and crawls over next to me. He leans back against the tree, tiredness dripping off of him. Eventually, which actually isn't long, his head falls on my shoulder. Then he almost tips over onto my lap, so I hold him up and lie myself down. He flutters his eyes open, and he mumbles incoherently before yawning and leaning his head back against the tree, only to tip again before I can move him to lay on the ground. He catches himself, almost like when you have a dream that you're falling.

He looks like a deer caught in headlights, then looks at me, "Lay down," I tell him. He does.

I'm not sure why really, but when he settles down across from me, I curl my fingers in the baggy sleeve of his jumper. He just looks at me, no emotion whatsoever, closes his eyes, and brings his fingers out of the sleeve just enough to touch my wrist.


	3. Chapter 3

##  **BAZ**

Waking up is weird, because somehow I've got my one arm draped over Snow's thigh, even though he's sitting up with his legs crossed.

"Sorry," I mumble.

He doesn't answer.

I push myself up, "What's wrong," I rub at my eyes forcefully, and wipe my mouth on my shirt.

Simon shakes his head, but after making brief eye contact with me he turns his body to face mine, "If that was my mother, and at least one of my parents were magicians, then why would they _leave_ me?" he asks, "everyone says that parents in the Magickal world don't leave their kids. And that Magick is too precious to leave behind."

I sigh. I don't know what time it is, but it's evident that it's early. Too early for any of this talk.

"I have my own beliefs. My aunt has some beliefs. I... if I told you what _I_ think and what some others think, I don't think you'd be very fond of me," I say. (Not that he's ever been fond of me).

"I'm already _fond_ of you," he mumbles, the tips of his ears flushed. And, okay, because I'll gladly take that.

"Really?" I say.

He shrugs, "It's not fighting. That's for sure," he looks up at me again.

I push my fingers through my hair. It’s dirty, evidently greasy. I could probably slick it back without any gel, which just shows how much I need to wash up. But it can wait, because it’s not fighting. And not fighting makes him fond of me.

I sit up, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. I need to go hunt, badly. That’s something that can’t quite wait as long. I don’t think I’ve drank in at least two days, and although I won’t die, I’m surely not as strong as I’d like to be. Plus, I think Snow can see it, too. He’s always seen it.

“Tell me,” his forehead is lined, lips pulled together.

I look up at him, my eyes droopy from sleep. I sigh, and push myself up with a groan. “I... later. I need to... I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” I tell him, and am tempted to spell him to stay, but decide against it. (Because even though him leaving could cause him to get killed, who likes a controlling boyfriend? Not that that’s what we are, but one can hope.)

Snow stands, “You called me Simon yesterday,” he blurts. I stop, confused, and turn. He stands with his arms hanging at his sides, his posture awkward and vulnerable. “Just... tell me. _Please_ . Or at least tell me what the fuck kind of _‘mission’_ I even came on,” he shakes his head, “I don’t even know what the fuck we’re looking for and I fucking came with you anyways!”

“You didn’t have to!” I explode. Agitated and grumpy from not having fed, “I didn’t _ask_ you to! Because sometimes I can’t _think_ around you, and then I fucking _kissed_ you?! Do you know how bloody fucking _stupid_ of me that was?!” he looks like a child that just got yelled at by his parent. I purse my lips, seething.

He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and then tries again, “If you didn’t wanna kiss me, then why the hell did you?” his voice sounds restrained.

“I- what?” I shake my head, lost, “I never said... that’s not what I meant, Snow,” I say. And I don’t expect him to respond successfully, like always. Stutter and fail to actually speak to me, is what he will do (that’s the second thing he does best. The first is going off).

“What _did_ you mean?” his voice is soft, quiet.

“You drive me insane, Simon Snow. It’s like someone locked me in a car and ripped out the bloody brakes,” I say. Then I huff, and kiss him. And when I pull away he turns his head, and wipes his eyes. “I wanted to do this since fifth year. I just- not in this type of situation. I should’ve- hey,” I turn his face gently, “I should’ve waited for when we weren’t fighting,” I say, which is stupid.

“We’re always fighting, what’s the difference?” he takes a step back.

I stand there, dumbfounded for once, “I... I don’t know.”

After a while of silence I speak again, “I came out here because I think I might know who and where your parent’s are. Or at least your mum. I had this... _stupid_ need to know if I was right or not. And going to find out without you is bad, I know, but going to find out while you were here and oblivious to what we were doing is _horrible_ . Then kissing you was like that car finally crashing, and I didn’t know what to do. It made the whole situation worse,” he looks back at me. I can’t tell if he’s angry, or sad, or frustrated, or _anything_.

“It’s better you kissed me,” he mutters, “better to have me confused about how I feel about you rather than me hating you, or we’d probably be in a fist fight right now,” he tries to laugh, but all that comes out is a dry sound. His face falls back to a neutral expression, “Were you right, at least? About who she is?”

I frown, “Yes.”

He nods, and scratches the side of his neck, “Then I want to come with you,” he states, which catches me by surprise. All the times he had said in anger that if his parents gave him up in the first place, then they didn’t deserve to see him now. “If the shapeshifter really was her, and she’s alive, then I want to go with you and find her.”

##  **SIMON**

Baz looks confused. I don’t know how to feel about him right now, the feelings of wanting to punch him and slap him keep intertwining. He knew, or at least had an idea (that turned out to be true) of who my mother is, and didn’t tell me. But he also kissed me like no one else has, how I didn’t know someone could be kissed. Although I’ve never done it that way, with a guy (and Baz, of all people), it felt good, and if I start bombarding myself with questions over if I’m gay then I’ll just freak myself out. So I just try to forget about it, and instead focus on two things.

1) Baz seems to know where my mum is, and we need to find her.

2) Baz has nice lips, and I’d be okay with him kissing me again.

A strand of hair falls in his face. He doesn’t acknowledge it, and instead stares at me. I’m used to it, but it feels different now, and makes me want to fidget.

“You know it’s not definite that she’ll be alive, you know,” he tells me, “she birthed _you_ , for Crowley sake, god knows what probably happened when birthing The Chosen One,” he says, “plus, shapeshifters can take form of someone who’s dead, too.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets, “I know,” I nod. I haven’t even known the woman for seventeen years. I still won’t like it if she’s dead, but I’ll be okay.

Baz waits. I don’t know what for. But then starts to walk off backwards. “There’s that small river near where we slept. If you can’t manage a simple cleaning spell, then at least wash up a bit,” I look up to shoot something back, but he’s got a devilish smirk on his face.

“Where’re you going?”

“Feed,” I can see the slight wince when he says it, his hand cupping and rubbing the back of his neck as he walks off.

Baz isn’t as pale as he normally is after he feeds. Or drinks, or whatever. That’s one thing that I’ve now noticed. All those times in our room, when he would sneak out after thinking I was asleep. I guess I never realized it then since he had all night for his color to regulate, but now that I can see him mere minutes afterwards, he looks normal. Not that he doesn’t normally, but compared to how he looked before he left. Another side effect of him feeding, he’s so pale as it is that afterwards he blushes easier than anyone I know.

##  **BAZ**

Snow has without a doubt seen me with wet hair. Takes longer than his to dry after a shower. I normally tend not to be in the room when he’s showering, though, so to come back and see him knee deep in the river with just his boxers on is obviously too much of a step for me. I did tell him to wash up, though, I don’t quite know what I should’ve expected. He can probably see how much my cheeks flare up from back where I stand.

Snow turns, squinting, but then his face softens. I fix my posture, and walk down to the water. It’s all rocks for a shoreline, which must be a pain in the arse to walk barefoot on.

“Just staring or did you need something?” he asks, and turns with the most smug look.

“Just staring,” I answer, watching his face drop and turn away embarrassed. I stifle a laugh to myself.

He splashes his face with water, and dips his hair in it, then shakes it out as he walks back up. He struggles on the rocks, but sucks it up and puts his clothes on, which are of course covered in dirt and dry mud from the day before.

“Clean as a whistle,” I point my wand at him. He doesn’t hear me say it, but obviously notices, and turns to give me a look.

“I’m not going into town with you looking like a slob,” I tell him, “come on, let’s get moving,” I put my wand away, lightly letting my hand linger on his elbow.

“We’re close to town?” he asks, “what town? Where even are we at the moment?”

I steal a glance at him, “You’ve surely realized what kind of forest we’re in, right?” he doesn’t answer, “California.”

“You didn’t tell me we were going that far! Or where we were going at _all!_ ” he quickens up to stay in step with me.

I smirk, “Well I wouldn’t have walked a whole day and a half worth in a random forest if I could catch a bus instead. Can’t catch a bus to the States, Snow,” he doesn’t respond to that. but I can still hear the small commentary he makes under his breath. I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot that there’s no one but us.

An animal out in the distance calls out. Snow flinches into my side, hand grabbing onto my wrist. I snort and almost shoot a snarky comment, but hold it back.

“We’ll be out soon, they can’t leave the forest,” I tell him. His hand drops a bit, but I let my fingers catch it, and loosely hold his hand in mine.

He doesn’t let go for the rest of our walk. Doesn’t let go when we push through the wall, or when we come out the other side in a merchandise store at a baseball stadium. Even with how confused he gets, he still doesn’t let go.

I try to convince myself that it’s only because of how crowded it is. A stadium full of noisy fans in a continent he’s never been in (he’s never even left England), but in the back of my mind I know there’s a little bit besides just that. If anything, at least a little bit of feeling that he might have for me. And for once not one of wanting to bash my head into a wall, or returning the push down the stairs.

I didn’t totally mean for that to happen. We both had harsh grips on each other, and he let down his guard just enough for my strength to overpower his. He lost balance thanks to me, and toppled down.the staircase. If we weren’t mortal enemies then I might have apologized and let people know it was an accident. But with the reputation people have put on us, as soon as the first person asked what the hell happened I gave them my rundown on it. (It was Bunce, obviously. Of course Snow only told her that we fought. so I took the opening and told her that I pushed him down the staircase for being a twat and trying to fight me).

 

##  **SIMON**

Lucy Salisbury.

Simon Oliver Salisbury.

I don’t like the sound of my name with my mothers. It doesn’t sound the same. And when Baz’s voice is already on repeat in my head ( _You drive me insane, Simon Snow)_ , it doesn’t sound _right,_ either. Hearing something other than that. I know I shouldn’t like it anyway, she left me. But if that’s the truth behind it then I shouldn’t like Simon Oliver Snow, either, seeing as that must be my father’s surname. He only joined the game and left me as well.

Baz squeezes my arm. I blink, and focus on his face. “What’s going on?” he asks, “you gotta stay in it with me, Snow,” he says, and there it is again.

“Okay,” it doesn’t even feel like the words leave my throat, but he nods, and lets his hand linger on my back as he guides both of us out of the store. I hadn’t even noticed one of us let our hands go.

I can see the field a bit when we exit. Curiosity gets the best of me, too, since then I can’t help myself from going up to the railing and looking down on the field. “Never seen baseball before,” Baz says from behind me, but he doesn’t look interested. He rakes his fingers through his hair, and it’s a ridiculous sight. Putting his widow's peak on fair display. Dark hair, pale skin, and a fucking widows peak. It’s like it was his destiny to be a vampire.

“We can always come back. If we’re ever coming to Los Angeles again the forest will always let us off here,” he says. I almost look at him. Right in the eyes. I almost ask him what he means by _we_ . If he’d want anything including we, _us_ , to happen in the future. But I don’t. Because if I do, then he’d think it over. Probably scare him away from the idea. Then we’d just be back at Watford clawing each other's throats out just about every day.

“Sure, yeah,” I say.


	4. Chapter 4

##  **BAZ**

“How’d you find all of this?” I watch Snow flip through a book, obviously not paying attention to it as he lets the pages fly by.

“Define _this_ ,” I say. I look back down at the book, and when making sure no one is in the aisle I whip my wand out. “ **Fine tooth comb, Lucy Salisbury** ,” I pray that something comes up. Anything. I can tell that Snow is antsy, but he tries distracting himself.

A book hits the back of my legs, then falls open on the ground. Snow beats me to it, holding it up in front of him. “Lucy Salisbury,” he whispers to himself. I take the book from him.

_We were written in the stars, my rosebud boy._

Her name is signed underneath the message. I know Simon has tears in his eyes, which is why I don’t look at him. I can’t break down his wall. It’s not my place to do that.

_Clair Avenue._

I inspect the book, or what I can of it. The title is named after the main character, Clair Avenue. But nothing else makes any sense. There’s no sign of why she wrote that message in _this_ book. It has to mean something, though. I’m usually good at this kind of thing, too.

I can’t think for my life right now.

##  **SIMON**

I can feel the remains of where I wiped the tears from just under my eyes, and it makes me feel cowardly. For a woman I’ve never known in my life.

_Clair Avenue._

“Feel bad for whoever married into a family with a surname like that,” I give a weak laugh, but then my face falls. I grab the book from Baz’s hands. There’s nothing on the page but the dedication and her message. “ **It’s show time.** ”

“Crowley,” Baz whispers as more words appear at the bottom of the page.

_6129 St. Clair Ave._

“I don’t...” I shake my head.

“That’s her _address._ It’s _got_ to be,” I can’t bring myself to believe it. I don’t know if it’s because I actually don’t believe it or if it’s because I’m scared of getting hurt. What if we get there and it’s not actually where she lives, or lived, which is another thing.

I look up at him. It takes him a second to notice, and for once he looks soft. Not hard and like he’s about to take a swing at me, which is how he normally looks. “You don’t have to go,” he says.

“I’m going,” I shoot back, then look away and down at the book. I shut the book, and take his hand with a small sigh. He just gives it a squeeze, and wraps his other arm around my neck. I hug him back, my head rests on his shoulder a bit defeatedly. I can feel him kiss my shoulder. Just a small kiss. But then I pull away and nod.

“Let’s go,” he looks up and around, then “ **Nothing To See Here** ,” he stuffs the book in my pants.

“Hey!” I go to grab it out, but he grabs my wrists.

“The book already has a bunch of other magic on it, it won’t be perfectly invisible,” he says, “it’s a small book, at least you look bigger down there,” he gives me a wink that makes my whole face heat up. I watch as he walks away before huffing and uncomfortably following him. Can’t fucking believe he just put a book down my pants. Baz, of all people.

Baz is smirking at me when we exit, “You look like you’ve got a stick up your arse.”

I purse my lips, take the book out, and throw it at him. He catches it with a laugh, and I go soft. I’ve never really seen Baz laugh. Not like that, anyway. Not when it’s real. But I like it. It looks good on him, better than the grim or hateful expression I’ve seen most of the time throughout the past seven and a half years. His eyes crinkle, and his lips do this funny wide smirking smile thing. It’s really something to see.

His laugh fades, but he still has a gentle face, “What?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “I like seeing you laugh for real,” I tell him.

He opens his mouth, but then closes it, “Thanks,” he mutters. I don’t think anyones told him that before. And if they have it hasn’t been anytime recently.

He clears his throat, “We should get going. Don’t know where this place is,” he jerks his head and starts walking.

“Shouldn’t we take a faster route? Walking may take us all day,” my feet are already aching from having walked through the forest and god knows where. I don’t even know how far we walked.

“Crowley, you’re thick,” he shoves his hands into his pockets and continues walking, “looked it up on my phone when you were staring into space.”

Oh. I catch up to him, but he still takes larger strides than I do. The walk is better than I’d thought. Only a few streets down, which may be odd, but also probably why she chose to keep the book at that library.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. I don’t know why, seeing as that’s the kind of stuff that Baz would torment me about. But seeing as he only leaves a feather light touch on my back (so light it may not of been there) I’m not sure he will this time.

##  **BAZ**

I’m the one who notices what the papers littering the front door mean. It’s not a surprise, since he’s never lived like a normal person, but still. “No one lives here. Not right now, at least.”

He looks at my shockingly, and shakes his head, “She has to. She wouldn’t of left the book,” he looks troubled.

“Come on,” I cross the street and almost pound on the door until Snow gives me a look. If he weren’t here with me I’d be drilling all these neighbors down with truth spells.

An older woman answers the door, in her sixties maybe, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, actually, we work with the insurance company covering the house across the street. Trying to make a sale of it, but we were trying to get some background on the previous owner,” her face falls a bit.

“Can I ask why?” she looks wary of us both.

Simon touches my arm, “When we’re thrown into situations like this, a lot of buyers want to know why the house went up like this,” he gestures to the house. He doesn’t know what exactly what happened with the house, but seems to at least to selling it.

She nods a little, “Sure, sure. Uh, her name was Lucy-”

“Salisbury?” I push.

She nods, “She and her husband lived there for about twenty years, I’d say. Husband worked a lot, especially when she was pregnant about- god, fifteen or so years ago? Something like that, but around the same time he moved out. She’d told me it was for a job, that she’d move over with him soon, but I feel like they probably had issues,” she leans against the door frame.

“Did she move over with him, that you know of?” Simons fingers are drumming erratically behind his back.

She makes a face, I can’t tell what it means, “Nah,” she sighs, “her little boy, Simon, stayed here for about a year and then somehow the husband got ahold of him,” she looks annoyed for a split second, “but she only moved out about six years ago. Real sudden, too. None of us ever knew why. Next thing you know I’m seeing her obituary in the newspaper last year,” she looks away, distant, “she was a beauty. Bright girl. She used to come watch my kids and chat, sweetest thing,” she shakes her head and pushes herself off the doorframe, “that’s all I’ve got, gentlemen.”

“Thank you,” I sneak a glance at Simon. He looks disturbed.

She nods, and goes to close the door before stopping, “Hey, I know you’re dealing with the house, but if by any chance you get a whiff of Simon mixed in this could you just make sure he’s alright?” Simon has his back facing us both. She still doesn’t look at me though. “He deserves a good life, never trusted his father.”

I can’t bring myself to do anything but nod. Once her door shuts, Snow storms down into the street. He stares at the house with a deep hatred.

“We’ve come all the way out here! W-We, I…” he seethes. He can’t get any real words out, and when I reach for him he jerks away from me. “No!” his voice cracks, “ _you’re_ the one who came out here! This is your fault!”

I’m normally the one who wins when we argue, but anything I want to spit out is going to come back weak, “I’m sorry.”

“You-” he cuts himself off. His fists are balled, but his eyes are squeezed shut, “we need to go in.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_.”

I purse my lips, “Okay,” it’s hard to open the door, and the first few spells I use don’t work either, meaning she probably magicked the entrances before leaving. Or _someone_ did.

“Don’t freak out, please. It might be overwhelming,” he’s fragile as it is, always has been. As far as I know (which is pretty far, I’ve known him more than anyone) this could absolutely wreck him. Because it adds up so well. Snow doesn’t know, probably doesn’t think so, either. From what I know, though, I don’t see any faults. And if I actually _am_ right, it’ll be something I’m going to regret him ever knowing.

The lock pops, and I push the door open.


End file.
